Definitely, maybe
by lunamorada17
Summary: Reluctanly set to High School in Forks, Ness Cullen finds that she can unknowingly relate to her mother's high school experience in more than one way, and slowly discovers things about herself and her family.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This chapter is a little long, but I think it's among my best writing! Please review! **

Chapter One

Ideally, I wouldn't be as scared as the car tires screeched across the sodden grounds of my hometown of Forks, Washington. Except, here I was, talking about a hypothetical case when all I wanted something to be certain of.

It shouldn't be so scary, I reminded myself, as I drove into the parking lot. I took a deep breath. It had taken hell and the apocalypse to convince my father that I should go to high school, and he unwillingly agreed. He sulked around the entire summer—not that he didn't have a fairly good amount of things to complain about, but I'll be damned—and when he wasn't glaring at me or giving me lectures on making my poor father grieve, he was trying to convince me that really, we should move before I go to school.

But I had fairly good reasons not to want to do that. The most important reason was obviously, that if we moved, my dad would have the absolutely perfect excuse to go to high school with me. My father, Edward Cullen, and my mother, Bella, for that matter, were both vampires. Immortal and frozen at their respective ages of seventeen and eighteen. Also, my father's adoptive siblings ranged from seventeen to twenty, so I would have an entire troop of bloodthirsty, super hearing vampires to chase after me if anything should happen. Not to mention, a troop of trained killing machines. Very good reasons, indeed.

And also, I had fought for this. Although the haircut of preparation wasn't entirely with the purpose of fitting in—hair that reached your waist would obviously look weird—but washing about 5 feet of thick bronze ringlets was getting difficult. So I threatened Alice to get a haircut at one of those shops that only charged ten dollars for each haircut or cut it myself, and she almost had a figurative stroke. Then—ridiculously enough—she bought plane tickets for Paris and took me and my aunt Rosalie (my mom had declined the shopping trip) and took me to face my worse nightmare. Eventually I cut my hair shoulder length before I froze forever. The shopping spree to Champs Elysees in which she spent about five times the amount of a yearly household to supply my wardrobe for the year compensated extremely well for the joy of the haircut. Thankfully, she bought jeans and not extremely ridiculous shirts and coats. To may obvious dismay, she also bought about 50 pairs of shoes, which had taken all my persuasion skills to turn into flats and boots. Leave it to Alice to kill your buzz.

And really, I wasn't a bad girl, at all. I behaved perfectly most of the time when I wasn't on the verge of a hormone attack. So, really, avoiding all my hormonal tart moments, I was well behaved. It was my father, namely Edward Cullen, who had the issues here.

The sudden wave of nausea as I identified the office was nerve racking. I drove around in circles, mapping my way to the office, until I found a parking spot on the far edge of the parking lot. I glanced at the dashboard mirror once last time before heaving a sigh.

I was beautiful. But I wasn't beautiful in a human, even less attractive, way. My skin was a pale, inhumanly pale ivory, with slight hints of peach here and there and and orange rose petal over my eyelids which was really, really embarassing. I had a pronounced jaw, and perfect angular features, and big brown eyes framed by lashes. Obviously, I was utterly intimidating. I was beautiful in a monstrous, mythical way. In a way that shouldn't coexist with humans, my intended prey.

I rearranged my ponytail so that half was dangling off my shoulder. Smooching my lips slightly, I felt my heartbeat accelerate to the point it was so fleetingly inaudible. I rearranged my olive green, three-buttoned jacket with 'fashionable' oversized, airy body and sleeves, pulled down my white, tight fleece, and finally glanced half-heartedly at my brown, ribbon-tipped flats. I'd spent the entire morning arguing with Alice about how I should wear flats rather than 9 inch heels—although there was no such thing yet—to make my look less intimidating.

I groaned then, and then mentally stuttered get a grip. I grabbed my book bag and flung it over my shoulder as I walked out the door. There was a light drizzle, and I found myself wishing Alice hadn't pinned down the most inconvenient outfit. I slouched a little bit as I walked through the glass door of the office.

The office had a few boards on the walls, a few baskets, and colorful flyers glued to the worn reception desk which looked even more deteriorating next to the orange seats next to the white wall, covered in announcements. The human scent set my throat on fire but it was fairly easy to ignore with the nausea and dizziness that had suddenly taken over my stomach. How could anything be edible, lest appealing, than right now?

"Um, hi." I said timidly as I walked up behind the reception.

The receptionist jerked her head to look at me, and her jaw dropped. Panic fluttered right through me, and I shot a quick glance down my body. Surely I hadn't done anything odd. I glared down the skinny, faded jeans and then over the outfit. I gulped, begging in my head that there was nothing odd with me. She stared for a while, frozen. I smiled shyly.

"Yeah, I'm Renesmee Cullen. I'm new." I told her. Had I done something wrong? I think, I think I heard a stifled chuckle. I was paranoid.

"Oh, yes! Dr. Cullen…" she stuttered, and bent down to look for some papers. She stacked a pile over the reception area and eyed me warily.

"Bring this slip in at the end of the day," she wove dismissively.

I grabbed the stack of papers and eyed them warily. I felt a wave of panic as I opened the door, and then immediately slouched, a knee-jerk reaction.

I stared at my schedule warily. It wasn't the classes that sounded intimidating—I had done the entire collection of McMifflin textbooks this summer, for crap's sakes—it was more the lunch period that sent chills down my spine.

How on earth was I supposed to make friends? I took a deep breath again. I had socialized enough down in LaPush really, and when I was little I went to daycares and stuff like that. I went to summer camps and everything. I was ok at blending in.

"Hi." A husky, friendly voice brought me back as if I had been punched to reality from my panicking.

"Oh, hi." I said, smiling.

His mouth opened a lightly, and then he froze in shock.

He had black, slick, gelled hair, and a lot of acne. I didn't realize how gross human pimples actually were. I frowned for a split of a second, and then smiled again. At least he was nice.

"I'm Marc." He stammered. He had a nasal, sort of squeaky voice.

"Hi Marc" I smiled warmly at him again. I suddenly hated my name. "I'm Renesmee Cullen."

"But you can call me Ness." I added quickly, after he shot me a puzzled expression.

"Ness." He smiled at me again. A tinge of eagerness caught a glimmer in his eye. My stomach chummed again in perfect harmony with the nerves.

"What's your next class?" he asked after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. People passing by stared.

"Spanish." I answered, smiling again.

"Oh." He seemed disappointed. "I have Trig." I made a mental note that's what people called Trigonometry here.

We stood again in awkward silence, leaning next to the walls. People passed by, sometimes stopping to stare to pointedly like I was a painting glued to the wall. I blushed brighter with each new stare.

"So, you just moved here?" he asked conversationally. While I was relieved to be pulled out of the staring, I internally groaned. How had I been stupid enough not to make a charade story? Oh crap.

"Yep," I answered, a little too brightly.

Suddenly, there was a shrill, awfully loud noise and I jumped a little bit.

"That's the bell." Marc chortled nervously. And then he added in a nervous voice, as he started fidgeting with his hands.

"Do you know where to find your class?"

"Not, really." I answered, hesitating for about a tenth of a second before answering. I needed to meet people. Anyone would do.

"I'll take you!" he seemed cheered by the idea, the sudden increase of volume in his voice startling.

"Thanks." My answering smile was the one I knew made my Jake's knees buckle.

His jaw dropped again, as he led me mindlessly through the corridors, crouching a little over me. The halls were streaming with students, some who turned to look at me and stare. I blushed bright red as I heard someone whistle. Thank God my dad was sulking somewhere else.

The Spanish classroom was clamped and windy, a breeze blowing from a fan on the corner, the walls a dull pastel gray with a whiteboard clinging to the front wall. A bunch of desks were lined down the windows, the dullness of the room matching the gray drizzle outside.

I went to the desk to give the teacher the slip. She signed it and then introduced herself as Mrs. Goff. I cringed internally at the mere thought of this class, because obviously I was supposed to have the typical amateur accent and know the basic Spanish, but my accent was a lot better than simply amateur and I really did know more than basic Spanish. I had swipped out the classics--in Spanish and English--by the time I was in the verge of puberty.

I smiled at her and her lip detached from her face for a second before she shook her head. I shrugged and I sat down on the midsection of the classroom, nearest to the window. I dumped my bag under the desk and cupped my face in between my leaned forearm. This was starting to seem like a really bad idea...but I had wanted it after all and I _was _and had every intention of fighting for the decitions.

"Hi." A strawberry blonde, blue-eyed boy with a baby-butt like face, was staring at me. He was a stocky and plump, and was probably about a foot shorter than me. I smiled at him again, trying to hide my rows of teeth, as I rose from my face cupping crouch.

"Hi." I answered, turning to look at him.

"I'm Kyle." He told me, his mouth hanging a little bit from his jaw.

"Hi, Kyle. I'm Renesmee." I said, rolling my eyes a little at the name. He looked a bit puzzled.

"Ness, for short." I added hastily. My mother was going to have some answering to do when I got back.

"So, you're new, right?" he asked cheerfully, wagging up and down like a dog before playing toss.

"Yeah." I grinned, trying with a lot of effort not to show more teeth than grinning allowed.

"You moved?" he asked, grinning at me, his eyes bright.

I cringed. Carlisle had been working at the hospital in Columbia for a few years now, although geographically nobody had actually moved. Oh, hell, was I stupid.

"Yeah." I answered slowly, pouting as I internally racked my brain for any sort of story that seemed feasible.

Saved by the bell again from having to explain this, Mrs. Goff began a lecture—in bad Spanish, no pun intended—about class rules and an introduction to the course. I flung out my notebook and to be polite took notes and looked up at her whenever necessary, although I figured taking notes fit into a responsability category rather than respect categories. I didn't want to get in trouble during my first day.

Then the class truly became hell when we started doing vocabulary exercises. I didn't want to look stupid or too smart, so I answered everything slowly, and then ran through the answers quickly. I decided an 8 out of 10 was a good grade, and erased what seemed harder and swapped it for a stupider answer.

After that the class passed in a blur.

As soon as the bell rang, Kyle ran, wagging in a very figurative way, to my desk. I looked up from my lashes, blushing.

"What's your next class?" he asked, the friendly demeanor not diminished by the obviously brain frying class.

"Trig." I answered, rather sulkily. Math wasn't a personal favorite. In other, more normal circumstances, Spanish wouldn't have toppled math, on a dislike quality, but I was so scared to act a bit too brainy during Spanish or too fluent that it would become obviously evident I had read more Spanish literature than Mrs. Goff could even dream of.

"I have Trig, too!" he cried, raising his hands like stopping traffic.

I smiled again, praying to whatever force there was up there that the subject of how I had gotten to this place wouldn't come up yet again. I ended up figuring that the truth would make more sense than any other story that matched recent events I could come up with.

I shoved my notebook and pencil into my bag and hoisted it down my shoulders. As I stood, I realized that I was about 3 feet taller than him. He puffed up his chest rather theatrically at the sight of my height, and I suppressed a giggle.

Marc was stationed outside the classroom, propped down leaning against the ominous mint green walls. I flapped my hair back my shoulders, leaving just a lock before my shoulder.

"Oh, hi, Kyle." Marc said stiffly, walking beside me.

"Marc." Kyle, answered with the same stiffness, as stationed himself on my left, walking at my rather quick pace.

"What's your next class?" Marc inquired, about a few paces behind me.

"Trig." Kyle answered before I could open my mouth. I shrugged it off, praying that baling on the insides of your cheeks erradicated blushing.

I felt a few stares boiling into my back as I slouched into the trig classroom, waving halfheartedly at Kyle and Marc.

"Good luck." Marc called encouragingly, waving back.

"Thanks." I mouthed as I headed to the front desk.

Mr. Varner was a tall, boney man with a balding head and a sharp, beaky nose that could only highlight his features' in their sharpness. I would've hated him anyway, because obviously the man was already ominous in features but his first request made that hate a need.

After he signed my slip, he made me go in front of the class and introduce myself. I was feeling horrible nauseated, the burn in my throat from the appealing smells was now a mere buzz on the back of my throat. I was definitely going hunting this weekend.

After stammering, tripping, a slouched position, puzzled glances, and awed gazes I took my place on the only remaining empty seat at the back but somehow people still managed to stare, even though I was on the far corner of the room, slouching into the little corner.

Again, we had a quiz and I decided to settle for a C. I was extremely good at math, so I did the test pretty quickly, erasing a few of the harder questions and purposefully messing up on the procedure and scribbling different answers in my round little cursive.

When class ended, a medium-height, wavy haired brunette girl was standing next to the desk, eyeing me curiously. I felt a little tinge of nervousness as I smiled at her. She exhaled a little sharply for a sixth of second — nothing human eyes could catch—and then smiled back.

"Hi." Her voice sounded as programmed as that of a TV add, and yet sounded like she was bubbling about. "I'm Allyson Meyers." I grinned at her a little sloppily.

"You're Re-nuz-mee, right?" she had a lot of trouble pronouncing it and I moaned.

"Ness, for short." I said, moaning a little. "When I turn 18, first thing I'm going to do is change it."

She grinned at me. "I think it's a nice name."

I sighed theatrically. "That's because you don't have to live with it."

It turned out Allyson had English with me next, and we spent the entire break chatting about names, a little boring, but still. I went to sign my slip with Mr. Green, the aging, fat English teacher, who fortunately didn't make me introduce myself something I was indefinitely thankful for. We were going to get along.

The curriculum was based on Shakespeare and Austen, mostly classics I had already read. At least there was one class that wouldn't be torture, I consoled myself. And then I reminded myself that I had wanted this, with a groan. It would be so much easier to sulk guilt free if I could blame someone.

He handed out tattered copies of a Midsummer's Night Dream, but I had the book memorized, so really I'd only have to turn in the essays on the respective days, I thought as I eyed the familiar sentences and characters irking into the page.

Jake was always complaining about homework—much too my dad's irritation—and I suddenly understood what he meant.

Afterwards, I walked with Allyson agreeing with her wholeheartedly about the 'dorkiness' of the curriculum, keeping my opinions hidden about how I actually thought they were wonderful books. No need to highlight myself anymore, as I still felt the scorching glares coming from the students throughout the day.

Gym. I'd heard Emmet grumble about gym class as the most boring hours of his life, and I didn't really understand why. As Coach Clapp, a man with a stick-out bum, handed me the stinky, humid uniform and started explaining the rules of Volleyboll, I suddenly understood why. Marc sided towards me during the class, and that was comforting. He introduced me to a shy girl named Andrea Tyson. She had platinum blonde hair and green eyes and was very skinny. Her size and round, somewhat childish angles of her features reminded me of Alice.

I played volleyball, and it really did take all my focus—I shoved the thought that it could be boring—to not hit the ball to hard or too fast and to mimic Marc's movements to perfection. I changed quickly, and a girl who I immediately disliked, Marian Mengell, noticed the tag on my olive green coat and on the jeans and I brushed brightly as she started gushing to another girl who I later identified as Regina Rendell, about how the tag said Gucci (thank god she didn't notice the _Paris_ underneath the massive tag). I wondered if Alice would let me cut the tag. Or more, if she would _notice_ if I cut the tag.

I hastily put on the brown Cavalli—not that I cared about the brand, but Alice had a tendency to add brand when talking about clothes—flats and then nodded shyly. Regina started gushing to me about what Alice would call 'amateur' fashion, and I just nodded along as we skimmed mindlessly to the cafeteria.

"Ness!" Kyle called, running towards me from the English building.

"Hey." I smiled at him.

He wove dismissively at Regina, who made a little 'hmph' sound that made her sound a bit like an angry poodle. I wove at her warmly as we headed into the cafeteria, a gesture she didn't bother to return.

"Are you hungry?" Kyle asked, grabbing a tray.

I supposed I was. I had never liked human food, always preferring blood, but as Carlisle slowly agreed to let me try human food other than the baby formula, I found it agreeable. I nodded at him, smiling again and he went into another creepy minuscule of his trances, and then he snapped back into reality shaking his head.

He grabbed a burger from the counter and I grabbed a soda and a tuna sandwich. I would have to eat this slowly to force it all down, but it wasn't terribly disgusting.

I was in the table, introduced to a couple of people, out of which Marc was the most eager, and as soon as I sat down, him, and another boy I identified as Matt started bombarding me with questions about how I liked Forks, and High School and my teachers in general. I slouched a little. Next to me sat Alyson, and another thin, brunette girl I recognized as Kelly, who sat next to Andrea. Kyle and Mark glared at each other half the time and I got from the gist of it that it was about me. Well, that was oddly flattering.

On the far edge, the only person clearly not engaged in conversation was a boy who with brown, chin-length hair, that fell like bangs on to his forehead, his dark green eyes looking up mysteriously through the locks of hair. My stomach fluttered as he stared into his food. Kevin Holmes, I'd been informed.

As I arrived with Kyle, who held my chair for me as I sat down, and a bunch of cheerful greetings and questions—I had finally decided that I had been homeschooled in Columbus and that we then moved, and that all my siblings (namely my aunts, uncles and parents) were in college—everyone introduced themselves cheerfully. Alyson gave me a snapshot on the comfortingly scarce three hundred and sixty nine students in Forks High School, out of which I only tried to remember the ones where Kelly and Andrea piped up some additional, completely ridiculous comment about that person's weight, personal life or sexual activity.

Kevin was engrossed in his food, poking around with his plastic fork. His only acknowledging gesture was a welcoming—if a grimace could be welcoming—twitch of his lips and a dark nod. He was clearly there as a tag-along, because he obviously didn't talk, and he made snorting noises at the oddly innocent conversation going on around him. I saw a smile play up in his lips once or twice, as I kept on shooting sidelong glances.

Lunch passed quickly with all the bubbling talk from Alyson and the questions from Matt, Kyle and Marc which I did find rather flattering. Eventually the bell rang and we hung back, but really the whole purpose of this schooling 'scheme' as my dad called it, was for social purposes, and to bring myself to be as normal as I could ever possibly be. The odds weren't stacked on my favor.

I hoisted my bag up my shoulders about five minutes the bell rang, my green coat with its oversized sleeves that only reached my wrist and its three huge buttons never once removed. Matt led me to biology, cheerfully discussing some CDs he wanted to show me. I only nodded, smiling once or twice to his comments when I got the gist he was trying to be funny.

He waved me away, a tinge of hopefulness in his eyes I tried to dismiss as friend interest. Mr. Banner, the biology teacher, smiled at me apologetically as he gestured towards the gray prison-looking lab desks and white wall. With an internal cringe, I realized Kevin was seating on the far corner—the far corner that should've by all means been mine—glowering again, like I had stabbed him with a pencil, next to a very innocent looking curly haired girl that was cringing away from her partner's murderous glare.

I sat somewhere in between the classroom, where I felt everyone in a10-seat radius stares burn. Mr. Banner—oh, his completely obtuse timing!—called the class' attention minutes after the bell rang and began to explain how the entire curriculum was based on the study of life and the microscopic structures it encompasses, with a focus on the seven life kingdoms. I could've recited the entire McGraw textbook, and realized that this class could very well match my distaste for Spanish.

At least here, I knew how to put limits to my showing of information. Spanish would be purgatory for that. My partner, Anna, as she had introduced herself, was a very shy, quiet girl who after introducing herself had sat a good two feet away from me, smiling apologetically as she scribbled notes on the first lecture.

I wrote a few notes too, trying to get everything Mr. Banner said, not very easy, with the thudding, somewhat erradical heartbeats around me. This was the hardest I'd found concentration here. The class went by ticking and I shot a few sided, clearly unwelcome but hidden, glances at Kevin Holmes, who was scribbling in his notebook with amazing speed. His brow—attractive, though I couldn't even admit it to myself—was furrowed, his lips still clenched in a hard line. His tan skin, with hints of being bronze, was covered in a layer of greasiness or perspiration that made him a tiny bit compelling. I was loosing my nut.

Mark was once again stationed in front of the classroom as I smiled at Anna, her returning smile quiet and shy, as I put my books with a little bit more care than usual into the bag, attempting to ignore Kevin's stomping, mangled with his usual slouching.

"Hey, Marc." I nodded, smiling again—I was sure the habit would wear off in a week—as he nodded and started bombarding me with routine questions about teachers and the usual chatter about Forks' sheath of gray drizzle.

Marc led me through the buildings, and then stopped abruptly in front of the government classroom, waving hopefully again as I entered the mint green classroom. I greeted Mr. Daniels, the man did look like the youngest member of the teacher faculty, signed my slip and then I jerked my head towards the desk, spotted Matt's spiky brown hair somewhere on the window corner of the classroom. I sat behind him with a friendly smile he returned.

I took the typical amount of notes, once with a compliment about my nice penmanship, slipped through Mr. Daniel's sip of water. He quizzed us again, about general US government knowledge, out of which I refrained to my usual method of writing some stuff wrong.

I swear I heard a frustrated sigh. I really did need therapy. I was going paranoid. And that, according to my mental rambling, got an amused chuckle.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I have a weakness for Edward and Nessie. Please review!!! Also another Nessie and Edward story I wrote that needs reviewing 'First and Foremost'....please read it on my profile page! (But obviously read this first). **

Chapter Two

At the end of class I gave Mr. Daniels my quiz and headed out, thankful once as I realized there was no one stationed outside. I strolled to the office. I delivered my slip to the awestruck assistant and headed out into the parking lot, where I was immediately greeted by the traditional drizzle. I saw Kevin Holmes, headed hastily out of the buildings into—what? I froze in surprise.

Most of the cars, which I obviously hadn't noticed, were your typical old second hand car that needed a fresh coat of paint or a family Volvo in a fairly good condition after a maximum of 20 and a minimum of eight years of usage. The type that only had a few more years of decent millage.

But Kevin had, I realized, a black Aston Martin, that could've reached a 200 mile per hour rate. It was clearly sleek, like a bullet, its dashboard and front long and sleek. My mouth fell open in shock. My dad bought himself an Aston Martin, clearly somewhere around the same model on his 110's birthday. Although cars didn't hold a particular interest for me, as the six-year-old I looked like then, I had found the speed at which my dad drove inside the car exhilarating.

Rosalie and my dad, well, mostly Rose, really, had jammed all this car-loving terminology into my brain in the hopes that I wouldn't inherit the same aversion my mom had for cars that she also had for shopping. I had inherited reduced versions, agreeing with her that that particular level of indulgence was utterly ridiculous.

Kevin dumped his bag on the backseat—I could smell the leather from here—and then got into the driver's seat and sped off with a parting grimace. For a fraction of a second, I though his features softened for a reason, but then the black car sped into the distance, leaving me utterly speechless.

With a sigh, I reached my car, a silver Volvo which looked indulgent in comparison to the other cars and ridiculous to that one car, and started scanning my bag for the key. I finally opened the door, dumping the bag on the backseat, entered the car and shut the door, pinching the bridge of my nose like my dad did. I sighed, closed my eyes, and rubbed my temples soothingly, when I heard a startling sound.

"Hello, love." I jumped slightly, squealing.

Edward was stationed on the passenger seat, looking irritatingly innocent, his features identical to mine, his now butterscotch eyes burning with a startling composure as he leaned against the soft leather seat. He stood still, like a statue that had been inside the car for an extended period of time, which was probably the case. I glared at him. What was he doing here?

He ignored the thought.

"How was your first day, sweetheart?" he inquired nonchalantly, turning his head ever so slightly and then reached to remove a lock of hair from my face.

I debated for a fraction of a second weather to ignore him or answer his question as I turned on the engine.

"Fine." I grumbled, turning my head to look back as I turned the car in reverse. I drove slowly out of the parking lot, waving halfheartedly at Matt and Kyle who wove back, smiling with that glint of hopefulness and eagerness in their eyes that made me feel like blushing—I did turn a darker shade of ivory, though—and then sped into the highway. If I had been human, the trees and green moss usual to Forks and Washington forests would've been a blur, but I saw them in flawless detail as I pointedly looked out the windshield of the car, now furiously, sodden with the actual rain.

The raindrops fell the size of q-tips, dribbling down the windshield and then being swiped off with the wipers. I kept on ignoring him viciously. Clearly, he was taking certain aspects of parenthood a bit too the extremes. I really didn't need supervision.

"I know, love. But, humor me, really, darling." His velvet voice interrupted my mind fuming. "I _was_ curious."

I snorted.

"Oh, really, dad?" I suppressed the 'y' as in 'daddy' I would've added otherwise. His lips twitched up a little. It really was pointless. It wasn't like I was pretending to be mad at him, because I really was. The daddy thing was really a knee-jerk reaction, a reflex. Well, and also, I liked calling him daddy and liked it when he called me 'love' or 'sweetheart' but still. I was furious.

"So?" I asked, a little curious myself, but it still came out grudgingly. "Did you enjoy the thoughts?"

His face twisted into an expression of disgust I could place easily. It was an expression he reserved for Jacob's benefit.

"Well, love. Enjoy really is a bit of a stretch." He kind of choked, making a face before the words exited with their usual composure and articulation.

I fell a faint flush of, well, pleasure and embarrassment. I blushed a little. So, then my assumptions about Marc, Kyle and Matt hadn't been completely based on my vanity.

"No, of course not, love. You're so beautiful your vanity would be entirely based on fact rather than narcissistic assumptions." He stroked my cheek, and I rolled my eyes. That was the sort of thing he would say. I couldn't help the answering smile.

"Although, I do wish your beauty had different effects." He added grimly, making his Jacob face again. That got a really red shade.

"I really don't understand why you tried to play stupid in your tests, sweetheart." He added, after a few minutes of silence, as we began to pull into the earthy driveway.

I bit my lip, fighting my urge to answer rather than keep on sulking. His lips twitched into a smile.

Then he sighed like I was the most troublesome teen on the planet. Not true.

"I understand why you're mad, Renesmee." He answered, probably to my general sulking. "But, humor me, love. I need to know you're safe." His voice was so soft and pleading and comforting I almost felt guilty. Almost.

He strolled out of the car, planting a kiss over my head, which I had pinned down to the steering wheel in frustration.

At least he had made no comment about the thoughts regarding Kevin Holmes. I peeked from my stance and realize that he _had_ stiffened, before strolling up to the house.

"So, nobody lit up pitchforks and torches?" Emmet asked sarcastically, at my dad.

I heard my dad's annoyed inhaling.

"Edward, seriously. Just because that's what you _heard_…" Alice highlighted heard theatrically, even though her words were already long and slow, "doesn't mean you need to go do that."

"Do what?" I asked as I dropped my bag over the entrance. Oh, boy, was this getting awfully irritating.

Alice grinned at me. "Oh, you know, he was planning to go have a little talk with one of the boys in your school."

Emmet—who oddly enough didn't snort or make a comment about my dad's obvious need of therapy—froze.

"What!" I cried. "Why?" I hissed at him, as he leaned over the kitchen counter to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Thank you, Alice." He said briefly, before turning to me.

"You didn't hear what they were thinking." He said, frustrated, yet oddly keeping that irritating composure of absolute calm.

"When exactly did you start stalking?" I asked suspiciously, my eyes narrowing.

Emmet's long delayed teasing kicked in. "Oh, right after you left—he snickered—he waited until you were in the highway, and then started running through the forest. I'm hiring a shrink." He added the last statement with a grin.

He started chuckling right along with Alice. Although the joke would've made me laugh right along, I was too mad to do anything other than kick him right now. Or kick myself for thinking he wouldn't stalk.

"When exactly did you get there?" I sighed, my hands stretching my skin down my face as far as it would go.

"Right when you started making incorrect assumptions about your appearance, love. The thoughts I picked up afterward proved my point, obviously." He looked oddly irritated now, after the second sentence was out, breaking his usual composure.

"Since 8:45?" I shrieked, panic-struck. He sighed, as if he really hadn't highlighted his obvious—idiotic, in my opinion—point about my safety.

"Emmet, what's the name of that shrink?" I asked sarcastically, turning exasperatedly to my bear of an uncle.

He grinned at me from the couch.

"Ugh!" I yelled at my dad and then grabbed my book bag from where it was resting.

"Where are you going?" Edward called, still inhaling like he was under stress. Probably the case.

"To LaPush" I answered grumpily as I stumped down the stairway. To someone who was just as obsessed about my safety, but a million times more fun.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: My pleads are falling on deaf ears....PLEASE REVIEW!!!! **

Chapter Three

She sighed, popping theatrically into the rotting driftwood bench and then hmphed as she crossed her arms across her chest. I sat beside her, feeling the new resurfacing tears before they were even threatening to spill. The way I was tied to her every need and wish came so naturally, the fact that I knew how to spot a reaction or feeling before it was actually there.

My eyes trailed that cherubic perfection of hers as I scooped her into my arms and over into my lap, where she would be safe. Safe from everything that could hurt her in any possible way, intentional or unintentional. Although she wasn't half as frail as Bella, her curves, her shape in general still had a feminine fragile softness to them that mimicked Bella's to perfection. Like the size of her tiny wrists, the fragility of her hands and long ivory fingers that looked like they could easily—but thankfully, this wasn't the case—snap. I started gazing through her legs, long and skinny, yet again distinctively feminine, perfect, even when covered in faded denim.

I rubbed my fingers over her shirt, her flat, perfect marble back covered in a thin-cotton white fleece. The shirt, white, and spaghetti straps that revealed the graceful ark of her neck in the most beautifullway: a paper-sheet white against an ivory its own shade altogether.

An ivory with hints of the color of orange at sunset, or pink rose petals.

I saved her face for last. My eyes trailed down her neck and into her perfect heart-shaped ivory face, marked with pronounced, model-like jaw lines that sucked her cheekbones a little. I traced her perfect, angular nose and stoped at her cheeks, in which the orange and rose petal tinges were most pronounced, even though now a tear-strained red. Her pink, angel-cheek colored lips, plum, round were being bit by her rows of perfect, long white teeth.

She burst into fresh tears, soaking my shoulder.

"Sorry, Jake." She finally sniffed apologetically, wiping her face with the sleeves of the green, oversized sleeved, coat bundled next to her.

"You know, Ness, when you were little and ruined that little silk dress," I began jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. "Your aunt Alice made me swear on pack's honor that I would take care of your clothes like they were actually a part of you. So—I snatched the coat away from her arms—according to that particular vampire-werewolf treaty, I have power to confiscate this misused—I read the tag playfully—Gucci Paris coat."

She smiled a little at my joke. She snatched it away in the blink of an eye.

And then she sighed, and fell back lopsidedly into the bench, her head dangling of the end.

"Ugh," she groaned, her hands clinging at her jaws like she wanted to tear her skin off.

"What?" I asked, suddenly a little anxious.

"It's just," she groaned, tugging a little on her ponytail "he's so overprotective!"

"Honey, he loves you," I said, wrapping my shoulders around her comfortingly. "He wants to know your safe."

"You know," she told me, sniffing back her tears, "that's exactly what he said."

I groaned internally. Oh crap. I decided to pivot my boat a different direction.

"So, how was your first day?" I asked, casually, releasing her as I spoke.

"Well," she mumbled defensively. "_I _thought it was okay, but for a second opinion you could ask my dad." She snorted, and then made a face.

"Did you make any friends?" I tried to keep my voice nonchalant, but this was the question that had been gnawing me on millions of different levels for days.

"I guess." She answered a little modestly. "Yeah, I suppose." My heart both rose and sank as her words did.

"And…" I encouraged her, ready to pin her down for more information. That answered a few of my questions, obviously, the question that was most important for her safety, for the need to know that she was out of harm's way in every possible way.

"Well, you know. There are a few nice kids." She mumbled, and the relief for that aspect was like air after being deprieved of oxygen. But, with that relief another aspect was bottling up into many nights of sleepless anxiety.

"And…" I urged.

"What?" she turned to smile at me. The expression was so heartbreaking and dazzling in its beauty it made your heart melt.

"You know, names, address, medical and criminal record, mug shot…" I grinned at her, but on the inside there was an actual gnawing to know these things. She hesitated for a second.

"Fine. There are a few really nice boys." She smiled, grinning a bit now, a clearly happier air about her. My heart sank deeper, so low I felt like it could brush the floor. Actually, if Edward had any intention of chasing these boys off, I would clearly help him. She continued, oblivious to my clear distaste for what she had just said.

"I sit with them at lunch." She grinned again, as if enjoying herself on some level, and then hugged her knees.

The salty breeze against the light usual drizzle made her hair whip against her face. She slipped her arms into her coat.

"Do you want to go back, honey?" I asked as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

She nodded and then jumped off the bench, and held my hand all the way to the beach.

And I had the inclination to wonder whether we looked like a couple. And if that's how she would ever want me. Definitely, maybe.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

I glanced out the window, and realized the rain had stopped, but that a thick cloak of humidity was crusted to the windows, like fog. I drove past the huge trees of the opening that lead to my home past the one-oh-one highway to LaPush, and that despite the furiously quick driving, there was a purple shade lingering behind the huge house, waiting to spread over the sky.

I cringed as I realized there was probably a hell of a reception waiting for me, until I realized that I had actually informed of my possible whereabouts.

I parked the car in the garage, right next to the jeep and huffed a sigh. I trotted up the stairs, realizing my flats were squealing humidly as they did, and that the leather was soaked. I decided to head up before anyone noticed my entrance, even though my thoughts were already within hearing range.

"Hello, sweetheart." His pleasant, irritatingly composed voice greeted me as I dumped the bag and lifted my foot up in a tiptoe manner, but froze on the threshold, debating wheater I should answer him or not.

I jerked my head around to glare at him, who happened to be leaning over the marble kitchen counter casually, and then continued my tiptoeing, the bag strapped tightly across my shoulder.

I went up the massive staircase and flung straight into my room, my flats already removed by the time my feet brushed the carpet of my room. I dumped the bag on the foot on the bed and locked the doorknob.

Sluggishly, I dumped the flats somewhere on the closet and headed into the massive marble bathroom to turn on the faucet, the water on full heating mode, so much that a human's skin would burn at the touch. I hung the coat up in one of the million hampers and picked out a purple turtleneck, wide-striped with two shades of purple and a similar fleece to wear under it, alongside a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of plum purple leather flats, the same model of the ones I wore today, and dumped it on a stool in the closet as I unzipped my jeans and threw them into the laundry basket alongside the fleece.

The jeans fell humidly into the basket, but I didn't care enough to dry them. Hastily, I went past the cloud of vapor that was coming from the shower, a large marble tub with a huge glass pane to cover and stood under the furiously warm water for a second, letting the chest-length curls soak until they reached my waist.

I turned off the faucet and nestled my hair over my head and squeezed a lot of shampoo out of the bottle, spreading it around the bundle of hair. I scratched my head until the shampoo turned into thick, white foam and then turned the water on again.

I washed myself meticulously for the remainder of the hour and then once I was done, I sat over the shower, resting my back over the end of the tub, bending my knees on a somewhat sprawled positions, watching as the vapor cooled off.

I lazily got up from the cold tub, feeling shivers running up and down my spine as I looked at the dissolving crust of vapor in the mirror.

I untangled my hair slowly; I rubbed body cream against my stone figure, and tied my hair messily into a bun as I got into baggy, soft, silk square-pattern pyjamas and a blue camisole. I grabbed a sweater—the only non-fancy jacket I had—, a 'dull' gray, and wrapped it around myself airily.

I opened the balcony glass pane and tiptoed past the marble balcony floors as I thrust my leg across the steel bars of the tiny balcony frame facing the Olympic mountain range and jumped slowly down from each bar until my arms clung to the last metal bar. I flung from the bar like a trapeze artist, getting a good view of my grandparents large, dark blue king-sized bed, were my grandfather was removing his tie as he caught a good view of what I was doing, and then his jaw fell open in shock.

I smiled impishly at him as I dropped the bar and fell into the back yard.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" he asked, his shirt unbuttoned down about three buttons, as he popped his head from the large window. Ew. I so didn't want to know why he was removing his clothes at this hour.

I smiled up peevishly. "I'm going for a run. I'll be back in a few."

"If you're not back by ten, you're going to be in big trouble. Understood?" he asked sternly, but his eyes revealed the usual but-I'm-not-going-to-be-the-one-to-ground-you, somewhat adoring look.

I blew up a kiss and burst into a sprint as soon as the crunchy sound of the gravel was behind me and my feet felt the damp earth of the forest beneath me.

***

It didn't bother me that I was wearing thin cotton socks that barely went up my calves as I burst into a sprint, the socks soaking in mud as I went across the sodden forest. The trees hung high, the glow of the silver moon creating a green effect I always found welcoming, that lit the forest in a way. I hadn't realized that everything just changes colors, when you're a vampire. Although I needed the dark for sleep, I could see perfectly underneath the canopy of bare trees which had turned an ominous green matched with the silver glow that made it look like it was actually six in the afternoon.

I went past the oak that marked the beginning of the wolf territory, in which you could see the highway. I went faster, and deeper into the woods until I was a few miles south of the cottage— if, oh dear lord, my parents weren't doing their usual, vomit-inducing nighttime activities—where I could change into a thicker pair of socks, maybe borrow some slippers after I saw Jacob, the whole purpose of this expedition.

I went a few miles south, making a nice circle within hearing range, so she could hear any sounds that could indicate any sort of ongoing activity, but only caught the flick of a light and saw the window go a bright yellow.

I made a run for it before they removed their….garments.

I banged against the door loudly, and then waited a second, tapping my foot.

"Hey, hon." Mom opened the door, looking a little irritated, and then a look of impatience flashed across her face as she poked her head back into the cottage.

"Hey, mom." I greeted her, shoving past her, and then flashed a doubtful look before proceeding into the hallway. "No one is…" I asked a little uncertainly, feeling like I was about o gag as I twitched my head towards the bedrooms.

"No, no." She said quickly, reading the disgust in my face.

"Oh, ok." I breathed, relieved as I proceeded into the hallway.

My dad was propped on the huge master bedroom reading a book, he shot me a hopeful glance and I tried to focus on a brick wall as I passed him, glaring. I almost felt guilty. Almost.

He laughed, and I clenched my teeth. Ugh, he could be so irritating.

He laughed again as I entered the wardrobe and I moodily scanned one of the drawers for socks, and finally found, cramped between some very disturbing pink fluffy ones, and a bunch of pantyhose, some thick woolen socks.

"Don't get home too late, sweetheart." He told me, grinning irritatingly as I fled out the door without a backward glance.

I scurried out of the door as I heard a very, very disturbing kiss, and fled till I was a good old mile away from the cottage, clutching the socks in my hand.

I ran past the forest, my feet wet now, as a light drizzle which would only get louder by the hour overtook the forest.

I ran a few more miles north, till I caught a good glimpse of the highway, and then I fled back into the woods as quick as lighting. Then I caught glimpse of dark brown fur.

***

"Didn't you just leave?" Jake asked, as soon as I held his warm fingers in mine, grinning.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. And then he looked actually, pained. Then he gave me one of his weird looks, the one in which he looks at me like he couldn't care less what time I saw him. This, obviously, didn't apply to me. I wasn't much of a morning person, and I would've cared if he'd woke me up at 2:00 in the godforsaken morning to see me, but it wouldn't bother me as much as if it were someone else.

"No, honey, no!" he yelled, outraged, and then twirled my body around to squeeze me into his body. My head was pinned to his woodsy-smelling chest, and as his warmth soaked me, I felt like I never wanted to let go. My nose, despite the tight, cramped space I had discreetly trailed over and I was soaked of his woodsy, pine-like smell. I felt like slowly rubbing my arms against his sides until they were wrapped around him and never let go, but instead I pinned them tightly against my body, and managed to compose a joking tone.

"Kidding," I grinned, as I squirmed out of his embrace, and my left hand trailed to clutch the one that was hugging my shoulders against him. I squeezed it.

"So, did you go crying to your dad right after you arrived?" he inquired, smiling. I had never been one for holding grudges, unfortunately.

"Nope." I announced proudly, as we fell into a massive oak in the middle of the forest, with log-sized branches that rooted to the floor. I nestled to his lap, and sat crossed leg over his width.

"What are those?" Jake snarled, glancing at my sodden socks, reproaching.

"Oh, those." I grinned as I took off my socks and pressed my toes against his fire-hot skin. He scooted me off into his arms, cradling like I was a baby, and rubbed my foot with his hands.

"Honey, you should really NOT wear thin socks. It's bad for your health." He told me worriedly, scooting the hand I was leaning against, to press against my forehead.

"Oh, I'm burning!" I swooned dramatically. He sneered.

"No, seriously, baby, you should be more careful about," he pressed a kiss into my feet which somehow turned warmer at the touch. "Where you—another kiss against my foot—put yourself into" And then his face trailed up to press a kiss against my forehead.

"Baby?" I scoffed.

"Honey, seriously." He said, his face turning the most un-Jacob-ish face in the planet. He pressed his nose against my hair. "Chocolate?" he asked, grinning.

"Alice." I explained, settling warmer into his chest.

We stood there in silence, and I pressed my toes into his ankles as he settled me into my lap again.

It felt like hours, nestled into his lap, his woodsy smell feeling my nostrils.

"Look at the time," Jake whispered, finally, running his fingers through my hair. "Let's get you home, princess."

I grumbled as I fell from his lap. "I'll go phase so we can go faster." He said, kissing my head again as he disappeared into the bush. The tinge of warmth planted on my feet left as soon as I brushed the mud, and I rolled my pants up to my ankles.

A chocolate brown wolf trotted out of the bushes, gave me a despairing look as he nodded towards the pants and I couldn't help but grinning.

The wolf growled gently as I pulled myself up into its back.

I cuddled over the thick fur, leaning over him as he sped into the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Jake?" I mumbled into the fur, drowsy with sleep, my arms draped over its torso, as it came to an abrupt halt somewhere in the forest, and my eyelids fluttered slightly, expecting to see the house stretch ahead of me. Instead, I was surrounded by the height of dark green trees and ferns draped into some sort of path.

The wolf's head whipped around to face me, nudging me slightly, and then whimpering impatiently. I was still to drowsy to lift my head completely from the wolf's comforting fur, but I froze in shock at the furious growl coming from Jacob's figure. The soggy socks fell from my stone grip, and I jumped down from the wolf's tense form. Jacob's head lunged and he gripped my shirt in between his fangs, soaking them. I tugged my shirt from the grip, as the smell hit me. It felt odd, yet somehow familiar, as the millions of scents that I had in my perfect recall seemed to have qualities that matched this one. The sweet, amazing scent of a vampire. My eyes widened and my breath caught in my chest and then the wolf I had forgotten besides me growled impatiently, his brown eyes finding mine.

"Jake, can you phase?" I pleaded. "So we can talk?" I raised my eyebrows at the wolf shaking his head angrily, with a panic struck edge. The wolf twitched it's head towards the house's direction and moodily, I climbed back the thick fur brushing me welcomingly.

The wolf burst into a sprint as soon as my arms were wrapped around it, but I couldn't allow myself to go back to sleeping, but my eyes were weary and I only felt the suddenly cool air whip around me, brushing my ears painfully, my hair dripping humidly against the sweater.

The house stood five stories high all of a sudden, right across the fifty yards of the roaring river, after five cool minutes of whipping air, I got down warily. I realized I wasn't even close to the house. He dropped me off—if that was his intention—were the river ran about 10 yards wide. I froze, panic struck.

"Jake, what's going on?" I asked impatiently, as soon as the wolf's head was right in front of me. He whined impatiently and then went behind the bushel to phase.

His legs were covered by the bushel, which meant this was a 5-minute warning.

"Ness, go to the house, please." He commanded and then bent over to phase. His russets, wide feet were replaced by imposing brown claws.

"Why?" I whined, impatiently. The wolf growled and then came behind me, to nudge my back towards the river. I planted my feet on the ground, and they sunk on the soil obediently.

"Jake, tell me!" I begged, jerking my head around, were Jacob was still clawing at my shirt, nudging me forward. I trailed after him, keeping a fistful of my camisole at hand.

He phased again all of a sudden, and before I could see what I pinned to avoid seeing, his hand titled his chin up to bare into my eyes.

"Renesmee Carlie Cullen, you will go to the house. You will stay there with your grandmother and tell your grandfather to meet me on the Oak. Understood?" His voice was so stern and impossibly loud—almost like yelling—and his eyes so imposing he reminded me of my dad. "Bring Emmet and Jasper." He added, before phasing again and grabbing the sodden fistful of shirt with his teeth, but this time I followed a bit less willingly, mostly because I was frozen in shock.

"Em and Jazz?" I stammered. Emmet and Jasper had always equaled in my mind virtual indestructibility, and I wondered why anybody would need that particular quality in this situation. My breath caught in my chest, and I almost fell to my knees. The wolf growled in exasperation and then howled loudly. Upstairs, in the second floor, Esme's velvety blue curtain sled open to reveal Carlisle, his shirt missing two buttons, his hair slightly disheveled.

The wolf growled, nudging me forward, and then a minute later, Grandma flung the door open and ran towards the river, her rolled up pants and bare feet soaking in the process.

"Darling, what's going on?" she asked nervously, flinging a lock of wet hair past my forehead and then crushing me to her chest, and I wrapped my arms around her in response.

"I don't know." I stammered, clutching at her like a lifeline. Carlisle came out seconds after Esme exchanged a few meaningful looks with the wolf, dressed a lot more than his wife. He wrapped an arm around Esme and then they exchanged a meaningful glance. Jasper and Emmet came out a second later, flanking Carlisle.

"What is _she_ doing here?" Jasper snarled at Carlisle and Esme reproachfully.

Carlisle looked back at him guiltily, and I frowned.

"I'm not a baby." I hissed. Emmet snorted, making me feel less sure about the fact. Carlisle and Jasper exchanged knowing glances. Esme pressed her arm against me tighter and then kissed my forehead.

"Of course you aren't, darling." She said in that patronizing tone of whatever-you-like, with a hint of anxiety.

"You must be freezing, love." Carlisle added, trying to look relaxed as he smiled at me but exchanging meaningful, anxious glances with everyone at the same time.

"Go inside, sweetheart." Jasper encouraged, and then, with a huff, arm still wrapped around Esme I jumped across the river, glaring at their anxious smiles.

Esme squeezed Carlisle's hand and then touched Jasper's arm, and my eyes narrowed. My arms found my hips and then Emmet gave Esme a way-to-go look.

"Let's go, darling." She said casually, finding my hand after jumping and then nudging me forward. She wrapped an arm across my shoulder, but that didn't stop me from shooting glares at their edgy forms. They were all leaning against the feet that were facing the forest, smiling impishly and encouragingly at me until Esme managed to shove me past the door.

She lingered at the door, but I was immediately ambushed by Rosalie.

"Renesmee Carlie Cullen, what do you _think _you're doing outside at this hour?" Rosalie snarled, ambushing me in the light-flooded living room, still shooting sideway glances at the glass pane.

"Go to sleep, missy." Alice added, mimicking Rosalie's actions, grabbing my hand and tugging me up the staircase. Rosalie kept on tugging on my legs, pushing me forward, alternating between looking at the glass door anxiously and then staring at me sternly, with that hint of adoration that could only be found at all times in her eyes.

"Go to sleep, now!" she snarled, finally lifting my feet from the ground as if to cradle me in her arms.

"Ok, ok!" I mumbled, drowsy with sleep, and she dropped me back against the ground, and I followed Alice upstairs.

My room was at the third floor—which would've given me pretty good chances of making a run for it—but Alice tugged me towards Esme and Carlisle's rooms. The sheets weren't done perfectly, actually, half opened, making me shudder and make a gagging noise.

"I'll go get you a new pair of PJs." Alice said, closing the curtain as I fell over the soft mattress.

She left up the stairs, glancing at the window anxiously. Rosalie came in as soon as she left, a phone pressed against her ear.

"No, she's fine." Rosalie said into the phone reassuringly, holding a mug of tea in her hand. Oh god, these people.

She snapped the phone shut and laid the mug over the night table, and sat next to me, rubbing circles against my back, and I suddenly realized how tired I felt.

Alice came back in, a pair of Polka-dotted Victoria Secret Kids pajamas in her hands and a pair of thick woolen pink socks from the same brand. They were purple with blue dots, thick and woolen pants and a blue camisole with a purple little ribbon, thick like the pyjamas. I took of the dripping pants and shirt, and changed into the other pair. Rosalie came in with a towel and I wrapped it around my head.

All throughout the process, they kept shooting sideway glances at the window. My mom burst through the door as I was getting into the thick, warm hotel-like feeling quilt, sipping the tea.

"Nessie." She cried, looking relieved, rushing over to the bed.

"She's fine, Bella." Rosalie assured her, grabbing the PJs from the floor and throwing them into the laundry basket of my Grandparent's massive closet and flicking the lights off and blowing a kiss, trailing after Alice.

"Are you okay?" she asked anyway, stroking my cheek. I nodded sleepily, curling into a little ball as I did.

"Where's daddy?" I asked, my head sinking deeper and deeper into the pillows, as sleep slowly crawled over me.

"With your uncles." Mom answered slowly, stroking my forehead.

I didn't have the energy to press for more, as the bed turned more warm and strangely welcoming each second.

I nodded weakly, yawning.

"Good night, honey." She whispered, pressing her lips against my head, and then closing the door behind her.

*******

My grandparent's room always left me with the impression of being a princess in a medieval castle, and as such it was the room I always picked to play in as a little girl when I dressed up as one. There were three doors, one that held a vault with all the valuables, and one for the closet and my favorite one, a door which lead to a staircase that itself lead towards Carlisle's study, where I'd always sneak up on him and he would pretend to be surprised even if he knew I was coming, because I giggled so much. Also, the bed was placed in between a square dent, and a desk leaned against the window.

Besides the fact that it was so large—my favorite place by far—the forget me not, blue silk that decorated it alongside elegant mahogany furniture gave it the 'princess-and-castle' effect I looked for as a little girl. The long, silky forget me not, blue canopy was held back very medieval-looking silky yellow ropes, the quilts heavy, and the usually arranged pillow set of yellow embodied pillows and equally silky soft pillows managed to achieve the effect to perfection with the wine headboard and window overlooking the forest, covered by matching curtains.

I felt sleepy, and even though my eyes were closed I felt like I was treading over the water, still somewhat on the surface rather than swimming under it. I heard the hums of voices downstairs, and my stomach clenched at the newest voice I couldn't place anywhere, so it was no surprise when the click of the door and slight flood of light managed to open my eyes slightly.

Daddy came in, slipping through the crack of the door and I breathed in relief.

"Daddy?" I croaked hoarsely. He walked in quietly, and then smiled at me, stroking my forehead, his eyes lighting up. _I'm so sorry for being so rude to you today. _

"No need to apologize, love." He said, kissing my forehead gently.

_What happened? _

"Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart." He said gently, his voice having the most velvety edge to it that made me sleepier. "Go back to sleep, love."

_Everyone's fine? _

"Yes, they're all fine." He hummed, his silky hand still stroking my cheek and forehead. "But they'll be even better when they know you're asleep, angel."

_I'll still be able to go to school tomorrow? _I knew this was the pressing question. If he said no, that meant that in fact, something was very wrong, meaning he wanted to have me in the eye sight of 8 killing machines to be sure of my safety. If he said yes, something could still be wrong, but not enough as to have me in the sight of eight killing machines, just one slightly overprotective one.

He chortled softly.

"I don't see why not." He smiled adoringly, and that made me smile. So, maybe, he'd gotten over this whole aversion thing, because otherwise he would've said a very tense 'yes.'

_I love you. _

"I love you, too, sweetheart." He kissed my cheek before strolling out the door. "More than my own life."

And he looked oddly tense as he left.

***

The noise of the alarm clock upstairs was loud enough to wake me up. After about 5 minutes of frantic beeping, I got up from the warm welcoming quilts that still felt oddly hotel-like. I went up the hallway, hearing a very low conversation joint conversation going on downstairs and then went up to my room.

It felt like being back home from vacation. I picked out a beige cashmere and a white button down, a pair of rather faded jeans and a pair of chocolate brown suede boots as I saw the crust of ice outside into the balcony, and made my hair into a slightly messy, yet somehow glamorous looking bun, leaving a few loose strands hanging from them. I grabbed the silver 'R' I got for the typical 'no-reason-at-all' from Daddy a couple of months ago and wrapped it around my neck. I grabbed my brown nylon shoulder bag from the foot of the wide bed and threw it over my shoulder.

I trotted down the staircase, ready to drop my bag on the garage staircase but had to slow down on the fifth step as I caught sight of a stranger seated on the living room.

"Hello." The pleasant, unfamiliar musical voice greeted me. "You must be Renesmee."

**A/N: I love that cliffhanger! I had a bit of a writer's block but now the story is back on course. Please review. I made some modifications to the Cullen house for this version of my story. You'll find out who arrives later--please review. **  
**Reviews really are love. Please, puhlease review!!!!! I don't care it it's flames. **


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